


The Secret Diaries of Hilary Tatibana

by DanielD2



Category: Beyblade
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielD2/pseuds/DanielD2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hilary hasn't seen Tyson, the boy-turned-man she's been in love with since he came crashing into her life ten years ago, since she decided to go to school in America two years ago. However, when tragedy strikes and she is placed back in his life, she is reminded again of why she loves him, why she hates him, and why she decided to leave in the first place. This time around, though, she's determined to convince him that they are meant to be together. No matter what Natasha has to say.  AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Ten-year-old Hilary Tatibana sat at her desk in the back of the classroom, waiting for class to start and staring at the ceiling. A sad sigh escaped her lips. She had been at Weston Preparatory School for a whole week and she hadn't made a single friend. No one would speak to her unless they absolutely had to or they were teasing her because she had oddly colored eyes and large lips.

But it really wasn't her fault that she looked that way. She couldn't help it that her eyes were the color of rubies; it wasn't like she asked for them to be that way. And she certainly hadn't asked for large lips.

The kids even teased her because she was extremely skinny and hadn't even started wearing a training bra…it wasn't like she could help that either.  
Of course, when she complained about these things to her mother, the older woman simply said "Don't worry, Hilary, dear. Just give it time. They'll come around sooner or later and see what a wonderful person you are."

The ten-year-old brunette frowned. That was easy for her mother to say. Her mother was extremely tall and curvaceous and beautiful and blonde with blue eyes and normal sized lips, just like Hilary's six older sisters.

She placed her elbow on her desk and her chin in the palm of her hand and another melancholy sigh passed through her lips. It really wasn't fair that all of her sisters were extremely popular already when they had just arrived at the school too. Her three older brothers were extremely popular too.

Why did she have to be the odd Tatibana out? Why did she have to be the only one who wasn't popular? Why did she have to be the only daughter who looked like her father? Why did her father have to get sick and die and then her mother move them all the way to Japan, taking her away from a place where she had friends and people who liked her?  
It just wasn't fair!

The pout that had begun to form on her face disappeared almost immediately when she noticed Natasha and Waverly, two of the most popular girls in the fifth grade, staring back at her and giggling.

She shot each of the girls a nasty look and lifted her nose into the air.

She didn't see why everyone likes them. Sure they were both pretty, Natasha with her brown eyes and gorgeous red hair and Waverly with her black locks and sea green eyes, but they were both horribly mean and spiteful girls, and Waverly was nothing more than Natasha's lapdog. They were probably the reason that no one would talk to her. After all, everyone always did what they said.

"Did you see the way she just looked at us?" she heard Natasha whisper angrily.

"Yeah," Waverly agreed.

"Who does that red-eyed freak think she is?"

Hilary opened her mouth to inform the two girls that her eyes weren't red, they were ruby but the bell chose that moment to ring and the teacher walked in smiling kindly.

"Good morning class!" she said.

The students stood and faced her. "Good morning, Mrs. Willis!"

Mrs. Willis nodded approvingly at the class. "You may be seated," she waited for everyone to sit down before turning towards the board. She picked up a marker and began to write an equation. "Today we will be starting with long division. We'll start with an easy one first," she turned towards the class and asked, "Can anyone solve this equation: three hundred divided by two?"

Hilary knew the answer, but didn't raise her hand. She didn't want to be classified as a nerdy, red-eyed, big-lipped freak. However, when the teacher called on her-Out of the eighteen children in the class she just had to choose me!-she couldn't do anything but answer the question correctly. She didn't want to be viewed as a stupid, big-lipped, red-eyed freak.

"150," she answered softly, but still loud enough for the teacher to hear her at the front of the room.

"Very good, Ms. Tatibana. Can you come down here and show us how you got that answer?"

Hilary sighed and reluctantly lifted herself from her chair and headed towards the front of the classroom as if she were walking to her death. Even though she was looking at the floor, she could feel the eyes of her classmates on her and hear their snickers as she trudged towards the front of the room.

Just as she reached the door and was about to turn towards her teacher, it swung open and slapped her in the face, flinging her onto the floor.

The class erupted into a fit of laughter as the teacher rushed to her side and a boy with navy blue hair and brown eyes stepped into the classroom, gasping.

The new boy stared down at Hilary apologetically and helped her up. He scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly at her. "Oops. Sorry. Guess I should have been more careful."

Hilary simply blushed. This boy was so cute. "It's…it's okay."

He was the first person at the school who actually said something to her that wasn't an insult…well, the first student anyway. Teachers weren't allowed to say anything mean.

He blinked at her in surprise. "Are you sure? Because it looks kind of like your-" he was cut off when the teacher pushed him aside.

When Mrs. Willis reached them she inspected Hilary to make sure she was alright before turning on the new arrival. "Tyson Granger! First you miss a week of school without having anyone send the school a note stating why, then you come to my class ten minutes late and attack my newest student. Look at her, her forehead is bleeding. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The ten-year-old bluenette pouted. "I had the flu. I have a note in my book bag from my mother to prove it. And it's not my fault that Grandpa didn't wake me up this morning. I wasn't even going to come to school until Dean Mathis called complaining about how I missed a whole week of school and how that could mess with my education, or something. Besides, I already said that I was sorry and she said it was okay," he turned his imploring brown eyes onto Hilary. "Didn't you?"

The brunette nodded meekly. "It really is okay, Mrs. Willis. I'm fine."

The teacher sighed. "In any case, Hilary, you're going to have to go to the nurse to get that checked out," she turned to Tyson and frowned. "Give me that note from you mother and then escort Ms. Tatibana to the nurse's office."

"Okay," he mumbled as he ruffled though his backpack for a few moments before producing a crumpled piece of paper and handing it to the teacher. "There you go." He then promptly dropped his bag on the floor and dragged Hilary out of the room by her hand, causing the girl to turn at least ten different shades of red. The only boy who had ever held her hand besides her father and brothers was Petey Peterson, and that had only been because they were playing Red Rover at recess.

As they walked down the hallway, Tyson slowed their pace, but didn't release her hand, much to Hilary's delight.

"So," Tyson began after a few moments of silence. "You're new here."

She nodded. "Yeah. My brothers, sisters, and I started coming here last week."

He nodded. "How come no one seems to like you if you've already been here a whole week?"

She blinked at him in surprise. "How do you know no one likes me? You were only in the classroom for maybe two minutes."

"Yeah, but everyone laughed when I accidentally hit you with the door," he answered before he repeated his previous question. "So, how come no one likes you?"

She shrugged. "They think my eyes are weird and that my lips are too big," she said shyly; choosing to leave out the part about them teasing her because she wasn't even wearing a training bra.

Tyson released her hand, much to Hilary's disappointment, and moved in front of her to stop her from walking. She looked up at him in confusion as he looked down at her in a studious way, a look that for some reason she felt didn't appear very often, even though it did make him look rather cute.

He reached out and used his sleeve to wipe the blood of her cut from her face, starting at the tip of her nose and running up to the middle of her forehead, where the cut was.

She blinked in surprise. "T-Thanks," she stuttered as she felt her heart rate increase.

He simply nodded and grabbed her hand, resuming their trek towards the nurse's office. "They're right you know," he said suddenly.

She looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"You do have really big lips and your eyes are a strange color. I've never seen red eyes before."

She felt her heart plummet to her stomach along with the elation that she had been feeling. So he was going to pick on her too…

"They're ruby," she murmured sulkily as she tried to snatch her hand away from his, he only clasped on tighter. "Let go," she said angrily.

He ignored her. "I like your eyes though," he continued as if she hadn't spoken and wasn't struggling with him. "I think they're pretty cool."

Hilary stopped trying to pull away from him and felt her elation returning. "Really?"

Once again he continued as if Hilary hadn't even spoken. "They're really cool," he repeated, as if to himself. "And you lips are really big, but according to my older brother Hiro—he’s sixteen and knows everything—says that girls with big lips when they're younger are really good kissers when they get older so it's good for them to have big lips. So, you'll probably be a really good kisser considering how big yours are."

She wasn't sure if that last part was an insult or a compliment, but she smiled brightly anyway. Tyson Granger, this really cute boy, said that he thought her eyes were cool and that she would probably be a good kisser someday.

Did that mean he wanted to kiss her? Her face reddened at the thought and she shook her head. There was no way that he wanted to kiss her. After all, they had only just met.  
They didn't even know anything about each other. They weren't even friends. 

Hilary's mind continued its train of thought before she was brought to an abrupt halt by Tyson. She looked up at him in confusion as he released her hand. She missed the warmth and odd sense of security it provided her immediately.

"This is the nurse's office," he said. "Just knock on the door and tell Nurse Hollis what happened. I have to go back to class. Okay?"

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Thank you for showing me how to get here."

He nodded and turned away before looking over his shoulder. "Hey, Hil?"

Hilary blinked in surprise. Nobody ever called her 'Hil', but, oddly enough, she couldn't bring herself to correct him. "Yes?"

"Do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends today since you don't have anyone else to eat with?"

She blinked in surprise for a few moments before smiling brightly. "Sure."

He nodded. "Okay. See you later."

"Okay."

>>>


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Ten Years Later

Twenty-year-old Hilary Tatibana released a soft sigh before knocking on the door of the dojo. She hadn’t been to Japan in two years; not since graduating high school and going to the States to attend Columbia University to pursue a degree in psychology. She’d kept in contact with Tyson and her other friends through letters, emails, and video chatting, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them in person, and she felt guilty about never coming back to see them like she had promised, especially since her reasons for staying away were purely selfish.. She felt even guiltier that it had taken such a tragic event for her to finally make her way back home.

The door opened and Tyson’s older brother, Hiro, stood in front of her. His face was pale, and he had large bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days. She wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t.

He offered her a weak smile. “Hello, Hilary,” he said as he embraced her. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” she whispered into his chest, feeling her throat tighten. “How could I not?”

He kissed her forehead and released her. “Tyson’s in the living room.”

She walked passed him into the foyer, and then down the hall to the living room, where she froze in the doorway. Tyson was sitting on the couch with his head bowed, face in his hands. She could tell that his hair hadn’t had a proper wash or brush in a few days, the clothes he wore were noticeably dirty, and an unpleasant scent coming from the room told her he probably hadn’t showered in a few days either.

She couldn’t blame him though. If her parents had died in a freak car accident the day after her grandfather died, she’d be a mess too. She was surprised he’d even managed to get out of bed.

None of their other friends were there, so she assumed she was the first to arrive. Not surprising since it was 8:00 am and she had come over straight from the airport.

“Tyson,” her voice was barely a whisper. She didn’t want to startle him.

It took a moment, but he lifted his head to look at her. His face was oily, he had tear streaks running down his face, and his eyes were red, puffy and giving off an almost hollow look. Even so, he was still the most handsome boy she had ever seen and when their eyes met she almost forgot how to breathe.

How was it that even after two years, he still had this effect on her?

His expression was blank for a few moments, as if he didn’t recognize her. She could tell the moment he did though. Something, she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, flashed in his eyes for just a second and a slight smile flitted across his face as he jumped to his feet.

“Hilary,” his voice came out in a strangled croak, but it still sent shivers down her spine. “You’re here.”

She offered him a weak smile that quickly fell away. “Of course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

The words were barely passed her lips when she felt herself being crushed against his strong chest and his face was buried in her hair. “You’re really here.” His body was shaking and she could feel the tears hitting her shoulder.

Almost as if on instinct, her arms wrapped around his waist and she buried her face in his chest, completely ignoring the fact that he smelled like rotting fruit—beneath it she could still catch the scent of something so distinctly him, and that’s what she focused on—tears pricking her own eyes. “You’re my best friend, Tyson. Nothing could have kept me away.” Was she a horrible person for being happy that he was holding her so tightly? Especially given the circumstances. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I’m sorry it took this for me to come back home.”

In response, he only held onto her tighter, as if he were afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t. Hilary didn’t mind. She tightened her hold on him too.

They were still in that position five minutes later when Hiro came into the room.

“Tyson,” he started, “I know it’s hard, but you really need to start getting ready. We have to be to the funeral home in—” He stopped abruptly when he saw them wrapped around each other. “Oh.”

Instead of immediately pushing her away like he used to do when they were caught embracing in high school, Tyson merely lifted his head to look at his brother. “Do we really have to go? It’s not even the funeral. It’s just the wake.”

Hilary, still held tightly against Tyson’s chest, couldn’t see him from her position, but she could picture the scowl on Hiro’s face as he ran his hand through his hair. “Tyson, we have to go. Please, don’t be difficult.”

She felt his muscles stiffen in his back and knew that Tyson was going to argue, so Hilary pulled back and placed her hands on his chest so she could meet his eyes. “Tyson, you’re parents and grandfather would want you to be there. It’s a sign of respect. And besides that, don’t you want to say goodbye?”

His hands had moved to her waist and he scowled down at her. “What’s the point? Going, paying respect, saying goodbye, it’s not going to change anything. It doesn’t matter if I go or not. They’re still going to be gone.” His voice broke on the last word and fresh tears began to well in his eyes and his eyes filled with so much hurt that Hilary felt her throat tighten.

“Tyson,” Hiro’s voice cracked, “they’re our parents. Our grandfather. It may not bring them back, but we need to go. It matters.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Hiro. He looked tired and sad and lost. She could see that he didn’t know what to do and wanted her to help him, she didn’t know what to do either. This wasn’t something that she could fix. This wasn’t her loss. Not entirely. Yes, she had loved Grandpa Granger as her own grandfather, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were surrogate parents for her, but it wasn’t the same. She knew that. This loss was mainly Tyson and Hiro’s. Now, they had no other family than each other.

She turned to Tyson again and licked her lips nervously. He wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “You’re being selfish, Tyson.”

He dropped his hands from her waist and took a step away from her. She immediately felt the loss. Her skin felt cold where his hands had been.

“I’m being selfish? What the hell are you talking about, Hilary?” Tears were still streaming down his face, but his eyes, though still swimming with pain had a certain hardness to them now and red was creeping up his neck towards the tips of his ears like it always did when he was angry. “My parents, my grandfather, my entire family except for my brother, they’re all dead. How am I being selfish?”

Hilary swallowed and sent another look at Hiro who had pursed his lips and was now giving her a skeptical look. He thought she was being too harsh. She knew she was being too harsh. Well, sometimes that was the only way to get through Tyson’s thick skull.

“You’re not the only one going through this,” she said, forcing herself to sound stern and take on the tone she usually used when they argued. “Hiro is going through this too.

You lost your entire family? Well, so did he. It’s not fair for you to try to make him go through this alone, for you to make him be the strong one and take care of you. You need to take care of him too. You can’t make him be the only one standing in front of everyone to accept condolences and support. Like you said, he’s the only family you have left. You can’t make him go through this alone.”

She expected him to argue with her, tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about, that she didn’t understand. She was ready to go into a full-on screaming match reminiscent of their high school days that usually ended with one of them storming out, but that’s not what happens. Instead, his shoulders slump, the color drains from his face, and he sends an apologetic look to his brother before staring down at his feet.

“You’re right,” he whispers. “I’ll go get ready.” He’s still looking at his feet as he walks passed her.

“Tyson,” she starts, wanting to apologize. She knew what she said was right, but she also knows that it could have been said more gently. Instead she says, “Make sure you wash behind your ears really well.”

He almost cracks a smile when he looks back at her and Hiro rolls his eyes so she decides maybe it wasn’t such a stupid thing to say after all.

After Tyson’s slinked passed him and they hear his heavy footfalls on the stairs, Hiro turns to Hilary with another weak smile. “Thanks, again, for coming.”

She furrows her brow and cocks her head to the side. “Why do the two of you keep thanking me? Did you really think I wouldn’t come?”

He shrugs and pulls on his tie uncomfortably. “We weren’t sure if you’d be able to come. We know how busy you are with school, and it’s not even the holidays, so we assumed it would be extremely difficult to get here.”

It had been difficult. She’d had to lie and say that it was her grandfather, father, and stepmother who had died in order to get permission to miss class. She’d even managed to convince the school to let her take the remainder of the semester’s courses via email so she could stay home and just be with her family. Her grades were high enough for them to trust her with that.

She doesn’t tell him this as she offers a smile though. “Well, I made sure to find a way. You Grangers may not be blood, but you’re just as much my family as my brothers and sisters. And now I’ll be here until the beginning of January, so try not to get sick of me.”

Hiro laughed at that. “I’ll do my best.” He nodded his head towards the hallway. “I put your bags in the kitchen. You should probably get ready too.”

“My bags?” Hilary blanched. “Did you pay for my cab? Hiro! You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “It was no big deal. I also called your mother to let her know you were here. Now go get dressed. We need to leave in an hour.”

She thanked him and hurried passed him. As she walked down the hall to the kitchen she looked at some of the pictures decorating the walls. There were an assortment of pictures of Grandpa Granger with his wife, whom she’d never met, pictures of Tyson’s father, Motoki, as he was growing up, a picture of Motoki and Takari, Tyson’s mother, on their wedding day, pictures of Tyson and Hiro as they were growing up, family pictures, there were even a few pictures of her on the wall. But it was the last picture on the wall before walking into the kitchen that caught her eye.

It was a picture from graduation day. The picture, though professionally taken, wasn’t the best. The only person who’d even been looking at the camera was Grandpa, who had been caught in the middle of a laugh. Beside Grandpa, Motoki, whose arm was wrapped around Takari’s shoulder, was looking skyward with a little smirk on his face, Takari was looking down at something with a knowing smile, and beside her, and Hiro was looking down in amusement with raised eyebrows. And there, splayed out on the ground, the reason Hiro and Takari were looking down and no one was paying attention to the camera, were Tyson and Hilary.

Not realizing that they were trying to take a picture, she’d tackled Tyson the moment she’d seen him in the large crowd of people and they’d toppled to the ground, Hilary landing on top of his chest and their graduation caps falling to the ground. The picture had been taken a few moments later. Hilary had rolled off of Tyson and was lying on her back, robes open to show the red summer dress she wore beneath. Her eyes were closed and she was laughing. Beside her, Tyson was propped up on his side and looking down at her with an odd look in his eye and a smile lighting up his face.

That was the last time she’d seen them all together. The day after graduation, Mr. Granger, a famous anthropologist, left to go on assignment in Egypt and took Hiro, who was following in his footsteps, with him, a week later, Grandpa left on a retirement cruise for a month, and three weeks after that Hilary was on a plane to America.

She brushed her fingers across the frame as she walked into the kitchen and released a wistful sigh. Who would have thought that two years later, three of the people in that picture would be dead? And she hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.

Tears pricked her eyes and her throat tightened, but with a few deep breaths she was able to stop herself from bursting into tears. Now was not the time. She needed to get ready, and she needed to be strong for Tyson. And Hiro. Hiro would need her too, she reminded herself.

She digs through her bags sitting on the table and pulls out the black and red cocktail dress Takari had sent her for her birthday just a few months before. Takari had given it to her to wear to her and Motoki’s 30th wedding anniversary a few months from now. Red silk and black lace, Hilary thought it looked a lot like lingerie. She placed it back in the bag; it definitely wasn’t appropriate attire for a funeral. Instead, she pulled out a red dress with quarter sleeves and a black band around the waist that tied into a bow in the back and a pair of black heels and carries them and her makeup bag to the bathroom down the hall to change. Takari always said that red and black were her colors.

Thirty minutes later there is knocking on the door. “C’mon, Hil,” Tyson calls from the other side of the door. “Hiro said it’s time to go. He wants to get there before everyone else.”

She takes one more look at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is pulled back in a braided bun and the only makeup she has on is light eye shadow that makes her ruby eyes pop and a little color on full lips that now fit her face nicely. In her ears are a pair of black opal teardrop earrings Motoki gave her for her sixteenth birthday and its matching necklace rests around her neck

When she’d first gotten them, she’d assumed it was just a costume jewelry set because, really, who in their right mind would give a sixteen-year-old girl such expensive jewelry, especially when she wasn’t a blood relative? As a result, she wore the jewelry set regularly. She can’t remember when she learned that the gems were very much real and each one was worth a tiny fortune on its own, but she does remember dissolving into tears and refusing to come to the dojo for a month when the opal in the necklace fell out in the midst of a fight with one of her sisters. They’d found it nearly two months later in the rain gutters—she still isn’t sure how it got up there—and after the necklace was repaired, it and it’s matching earrings had stayed locked safely in Hilary’s jewelry box, never to be worn again. She supposed today was as good a day as any to bring them back out.

The dress is form-fitting, but not in a provocative way, and falls just above her knees. The dark red looks nice against her naturally bronzed skin, she thinks. Her black stilettos finish off her look. The heels are high with a bow on the back, she’d bought them just because they went so well with the dress. She wonders for a second if they are too high to be appropriate for a funeral when Tyson gives another impatient bang on the door.

“Hilary, c’mon!”

She rolls her eyes, and forgets for a moment that they’re on the way to the funeral. For a second, she’s seventeen-years-old again, getting ready for senior prom and Tyson is rushing her. It’s when she doesn’t hear Takari’s voice in the background, telling her youngest son to calm down and stop rushing her that she remembers what she’s doing and pulls the door open.

“Sorry. The dress was a little harder to zip than I thou—” she’s cut off when she walks directly into the brick wall that is Tyson. She stumbles back and he places his hands on her hips to steady her.

“Whoa there, Hil.”

“Sorry,” she grumbles and takes a step back so that she can take in his appearance.

She still has to look up at him, she notes. Even with her heels on she still barely reaches his chin. Has he always been this tall? She hadn’t noticed early when she’d had her face buried in his chest.

She’s surprised to see that his outfit actually matches her own. He is wearing black dress pants and shoes, paired with a dark red, long sleeved dress shirt and black tie. His shoulder length, navy blue hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail. She takes a moment to stare at his face a little longer than she probably should. His chin is firmer and more chiseled than it was even two years ago. And the lines of his face are much firmer, and she thinks that he finally looks more man than boy, and she wonders why she never noticed the change in their many video chats or from the pictures he’d sent her.

She assumes it’s her own fault, really. Whenever she thinks of Tyson, she usually imagines the ten-year-old boy who first captured her heart or the sixteen-year-old leaning against her locker with a smile on his face that tells her he’s up to something he shouldn’t be and intends to drag her into the mix so she won’t rat on him. Occasionally, he’s the seventeen-year tugging her into the bed with him when she goes to wake him up on the first day of senior year, pinning her against his chest and convincing her to let him go back to sleep for just thirty minutes more, and to doze off herself; Takari had found them like that an hour later and taken a dozen pictures before dragging them out of the bed herself. They’d been thirty minutes late to school that day, but Hilary could never find it in herself to be angry with Tyson for ruining her perfect record.

Rarest of all though, he’s the eighteen-year-old holding on to her a little too tightly outside her terminal as they call for her flight to load, face buried in her hair, and later lips pressed gently against her temple before he looks at her with something in his eyes that she can’t decipher and opens his mouth to speak, but he must change his mind because suddenly he’s closing his mouth, he blinks and that something in his eyes is gone. Instead, he’s releasing her with a smile that isn’t quite right because it doesn’t brighten his face like it’s supposed to, and wishing her good luck and telling her not to forget him.

She remembers almost laughing at those words, and nearly does now as well. Because really, how could she ever forget him? Doesn’t he know how deeply ingrained in her soul he is? She doesn’t tell him this of course, probably never will. She’d simply rolled her eyes and told her she’d do her best. Then he’d pulled her in for another hug and kissed her on the forehead, his lips lingering a little too long, before he released her as her mother called for her to hurry before they missed their flight.

“Hilary?” His voice pulls her from her memories and she’s once again staring at the man before her, this time his brown eyes are drawn together in worry and confusion. He offers her a small smile when her eyes refocus on his. “Where’d you go just now?”

She opens her mouth, not really sure what her answer is going to be, when a voice that she would recognize anywhere echoes from down the hall and turns her blood to ice.

“Tyson? Where are you? Are you ready to go?”

Tyson drops his hands from her sides and turns away from Hilary. “Yeah. We’re coming now.”

Teeth grating, Hilary follows Tyson down the hall to the front door where Hiro is standing uncomfortably with a woman wearing a tight black dress with white trimmings. Her red hair is pulled back in a tight bun and her brown eyes appear to be sympathetic before hardening when they meet Hilary’s.

“What are you doing here?” Tyson asks her as they get closer. “I thought we agreed to meet at the funeral home.”

She takes in Hilary’s outfit and then Tysons before giving a small smile that Hilary knows is supposed to look caring, but falls just a little short. “I know, that’s what we agreed, Tyson. But I thought that I should meet with you and Hiro here so the two of you wouldn’t have to walk in alone.” She places her left hand on Tyson’s chest, an engagement ring glinting off her third finger, as she turns to fix Hilary with a calculating look. “I see I needn’t have bothered. Hello, Hilary.”

Hilary tears her eyes away from the diamond ring, swallows the lump that has suddenly formed in her throat, and forces a smile that she’s sure looks more like a grimace.

“Natasha.”


End file.
